Shame Cultures
by Astro Latte
Summary: There are some things that all guys just need to learn how to do, regardless of what their mother's tell them is appropriate. AlanxVictor


**Shame Cultures**

Alan thought he had noticed something different about him, but he wasn't sure if he was just seeing things. The way he was walking was strange. With almost a limp, his strut was uncomfortable, full of pain, and somewhat familiar.

He was walking down the hallways as if he was walking off a kick to the nuts.

It was probably the truth, he figured, blaming the injury on one of Clover's many morning thrashings. It was early, Alan was still tired and poking jokes at such a futile (and somewhat regular) injury was not worth his time.

"Morning," he greeted, walking towards the boys bathroom.

"Mornin" Victor echoed, following him inside.

Both boys walked towards the urinals, spreading out as according to the urinal code. Still tired, Alan began his business silently and was only interrupted when he heard Victor's groans.

"Nngh...."

Not wanting to break urinal code and turn to his to check friend, he tried to ignore the noise. He was probably trying to cover up his nut-pain anyway, and Alan still didn't want to deal with it.

Then came the quiet dribble, and odd hiss of pain that not even Alan could ignore. Zipping up quickly, he turned to his friend with a disregard to urinal ethic and saw what he had been groaning about. The conversation at lunch the day before quickly sprang back into memory and Alan bursted into hysterics.

"Shut up!" Victor groaned trying to finish his task as quickly as he could.

Alan's laughter only intensified as he watched his best friend struggle with the simple task of urination. Victor turned to him cursing, face flushed with embarrassment as he leaned over the urinal.

With laughter subsiding to a chuckle, Alan became aware of how urgent his friend's predicament had become. Sure, he had called it his act of "disgusting self-abuse" but he didn't think Victor would take the phrase so literally.

As Victor swore and tried to finish up, Alan quickly surveyed the bathroom and noticed that they were alone. Stealthily, he twisted the door locked, before making his way to clean his hands. His laughter started up again, hoping to gain Victor's attention.

"Screw you!" He turned, flipping Alan the bird with his left hand.

Striking quickly, Alan grabbed Victor's hand, slathering it up with hand-soap, as he pinned his other arm against the urinal wall.

"Dude!" Victor yelled, very aware of their awkward predicament and blushing profusely. "What the hell is this?"

"Try lubrication next time," He felt a whispered into his ear, as Alan wrapped Victor's soapy hand around his painful body part. "You dick head."

Still pinned to the wall, Victor felt as Alan began to move his hand. Blushing deeper, and swallowing hard he groaned, "Wha...this is...gay..."

"Pfft," Alan snorted, quickening the pace of his friends hand. "The only gay thing here is you not knowing how to rub one out. Since you're too stupid to figure it out yourself, somebody needs to show you."

"I...I...." Victor stammered, as his own grip tightened as Alan's rhythm continued. "Nngh..."

Alan smirked as he felt the lanky rude-boy's knees start to tremble. Beneath his chest he felt his back arch, and the tumors travel down his spine. The hand he had pinned to the bathroom wall clenched tightly into a fist, and all Alan could do was wonder mischievously if he could go even faster.

Pushing him to his limit Victor jaw sagged as he panted heavily, Alan felt his body shake beneath him as if Victory had past some sort of barrier.

Suddenly, Victor stiffened, his fingernails pressing fiercely into the flesh on his palms. Damp locks of ebony hair hung messily in front of his eyes, only to be tossed carelessly away with a violent jerk of his head. His sweat-shined forehead arched dangerously back, eyelids clenching tightly together and pale features contorting with pure rapture.

Moving his hand just in time for his friend to finish, Alan heard a the muffle mumble of familiar name escape Victor's lips. Figuring out the fantasy, he smiled impishly as Victor panted and leaned against the urinal for support.

"So I was right," he snorted. "I knew you wanted that Irish Wrench."

Victor swallowed drily, blushing hard as zipped himself up and washed his hands of the new mess he discovered.

"It's...none of your business."

"The hell it aint," he smirked as he made his way to unlock the bathroom. "Well, at least now if she doesn't want anything to do with you there's an option other than crying into your pillow."

Victor ignored the joke as Alan left, shutting the door loudly behind him. However he wasn't gone for long.

"Oh before I forget," he chimed, head peaking into the bathroom. "On the off chance you do catch her lucky charms, lemme know if she's a natural red head. I've always been curious."

With the skill that only years of experience could prefect, Alan retracted his head quickly from doorway, barely dodging the trash can Victor at hurled at the bathroom door.


End file.
